


Gray

by strikecommanding



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crying, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kidnapping, Reader-Insert, Size Difference, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikecommanding/pseuds/strikecommanding
Summary: Do the ends really justify the means?





	Gray

**Author's Note:**

> this is a long overdue 3k comm in which blackwatch!mccree decides to have a little fun with a fem reader who was kidnapped for ransom :3

_“Good work, McCree.”_

“Aw, you’re makin’ me blush,” McCree said coolly, briefly playing with the comms device in his ear before moving his fidgeting fingers to his cigar. He removed it from his lips to let out a puff of thick gray smoke. “I finished up here in record time. How about you reward me by sending out my ride back just as fast?”

Reyes snorted irreverently on the other end. _“I’m not a miracle worker. I can’t just send out a dropship when the security over there is through the roof.”_

“And whose fault is that?”

 _“Hey, the job was to take the girl, which you did perfectly. Nothing I could have done would have prevented the fallout of that,”_ he replied easily, and he had every right to be carefree since he wasn’t the black ops agent stranded in a city thousands of miles away from base. _“Besides, we want that politician to sweat. Make him realize he’s not invincible and make him desperate to get his daughter back. By the time we send out the ransom, he’ll spill his guts on everything he knows about Talon. Just stay put in the safehouse for a few days and I’ll send you a five-star ride outta there.”_

“I’ll hold ya to that,” McCree retorted, and his boss cut the line just as he put out his cigar in a well-used ashtray. Smoke blew out of his nose and his mouth, making him look like some kind of monster, as he turned around to look back at his company for the next few days. Of course, the smoke probably wasn’t necessary to further demonize him in your eyes.

You glared at him with as much hatred as you could muster from your pitiful position on the bed, still tied up with your mouth taped shut just as he’d left you before he made the call to Reyes. When he first met you at your father’s fancy and extremely public gala earlier in the evening, you’d been much less hostile. In fact, you couldn’t get enough of McCree or the drinks he kept funneling you that you easily left with him. But when he dropped the charming act to get you away from others and secure you in the safehouse, you started to put up a fight. Compared to a man of his physique, you were such a dainty little thing that you hardly needed a lot of restraints; he was simply getting annoyed with your soft punches and kitten scratches that he needed to make you sit still.

Quickly lighting another cigar and grinning lightly at the look of displeasure on your face, he remarked, “Looks like we’ll be here a while, princess.”

\---

McCree had taken on snatch and grab missions in the past where he couldn’t head back to base right away; he couldn’t be Reyes’ favorite nor his unofficial second-in-command if he couldn’t handle that much at least. However, none of his previous experiences were quite as grating as this one was shaping up to be. For one, the safehouses he’d been in were larger than this as they generally housed more agents than just himself. The smaller ones were fine for when he was the only one occupying them, typically for reconnaissance and other missions that were strictly observation.

But having to accommodate a fussy brat in such a tight space was starting to get on his nerves. He was going stir crazy in such a minimally furnished safehouse to begin with, and your rotten attitude and near-constant complaints didn’t make it any more livable. For someone who was kidnapped and essentially had no worth if your disappearance wasn’t enough to get dear old daddy to talk, you sure had no sense of self-preservation. You would complain to and berate McCree at every possible opportunity, though you were usually met with indifference.

Though the building was fairly secure both inside and out and he was the only one with access to all the keys, he knew better than to just let you wander around. Most of the time he kept you holed up in a room plainly equipped with a bed and a connected bathroom. He made his presence around you scarce, dropping in only to give you food. The walls inside the house weren’t very thick so he occasionally heard you screaming and demanding to be let out, but you often tired yourself out just as quickly.

Around the three-day mark, you were quieter than usual and McCree could only keep himself entertained for so long, so he thought to stop by with your dinner a bit early. Upon entering, he saw you curled up in bed, awake but unmoving. Sniffing indifferently, he said, “Chow time.”

You stared up at him with an indiscernible expression, not that he was terribly interested in deciphering how you were feeling anyway. But he found out soon enough when you spoke up in a small voice that was hoarse from screaming. “Please let me take a bath.”

Your request came out so meek and polite that he tipped back the brim of his hat out of surprise. It came as a shock to hear a brat like you humble yourself to ask for something like that, though he supposed the primadonna in you couldn’t put up with just sink baths for an indeterminate amount of time. Moving his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, he set down the food he’d brought in and cocked his head towards the door. “Well, all right. Shower’s in my room. Come with me.”

It took you a moment of tense silence, but you eventually slid out of bed and approached him, the tattered length of your evening dress dragging on the floor behind you. McCree looked over his shoulder at you to make sure you wouldn’t try anything funny when you were only supposed to be following him to the next room. Contrary to how fiery and feisty you’d been when you first found yourself here, you were very obedient now. Only when he entered the bathroom with you did you fidget and start to show visible discomfort.

Smiling smugly as he leaned back against the doorframe, he said, “I can’t just leave you here to your own devices. For all I know, you’ll try and escape.”

“I just want to take a shower,” you retorted, some bite clearly coming back under all that wavering.

McCree was indifferent. “So go ahead.”

You engaged in a glaring match with him for a short while, though you were hardly intimidating at your height. Eventually you caved, turning away from him with a soft scoff and slowly slipping your dress off your shoulders. His eyes followed the fabric as it slipped down and then his attention turned to your curves, now that they were uncovered. For such an arrogant little lady, you sure were a sight for sore eyes.

You had no privacy even when you were inside the shower, as the doors were crystal clear sliding glass. At first you tried to preserve your dignity by showing him as little as possible, but you soon realized you had to turn around to adequately wash your entire body. You seemed conscious enough of his presence without him even having to say anything but he loved watching you squirm, so he decided to push a button with a long, low whistle and a comment. “Damn, girl.”

The venom in your expression when you looked up at him was quickly replaced by something not unlike horror, as you got an eyeful of his hand sliding over his clothed crotch. Instead of spitting out whatever snappy retort you’d come up with, you whipped your head down and tried to finish washing yourself as quickly as possible.

Once you were done, McCree was ready with a towel. You were obviously resentful of having him wrap it around you but you had enough sense to know it was better than letting him ogle your naked body any longer. As he led you out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom, he leaned down just a bit to whiff his shampoo off the crown of your head.

Either you were sufficiently creeped out by now or you just lost all common sense, as you tried one last time to get a swipe at him. You were scrappy, he’d give you that much, and he had to commend you for ruthlessly going for an attempt at his throat. Before he decided to praise you, however, he clapped his hand over the back of your neck and bent you forward on the edge of his mattress, effectively subduing you. Your towel fell loose from your body and pooled on the floor as a result, and your scrambling hands tried desperately to reach for it. All of your squirming gave McCree a good look at your bare flesh in motion.

“Got a death wish or something, princess? Or are you just plain stupid?” he questioned, leaning down to look at your fierce expression against his sheets. “You know you’re in no position to go against me, right?”

When you finally stopped flailing, you must have either tired yourself out or you became aware of the way he was leering at you. You were obviously still fired up, however, if your heaving breaths were any indication. Tense in his grip, you spat, “You’re not going to kill me. You need me alive to get my Daddy to cooperate.”

For the first time, you genuinely surprised McCree. You were smarter than he believed to be able to pick up on why you were here in the first place. But what really got his attention was the way you sounded when you said ‘Daddy’. Sure, it was just a term of endearment for your dear father, but the depraved and frankly _bored_ side of him took that moment and went running with it. Idly, his free hand moved back to the bulge in his pants. He wasn’t stroking himself earlier just to get a reaction out of you, after all. “Well, you ain’t wrong. My orders were to bring you in alive.”

Abruptly, you felt yourself being lifted up at the same time another, heavier weight sank into the mattress. Once you settled, you were sprawled over his lap with a large, warm hand hovering over the swell of your ass. You were quickly reanimated into resisting when you realized the position he had you in, and in all of your movements your belly brushed against his hard cock. Only when his other hand settled on the back of your neck once again did you finally stop squirming.

Unseen by you, McCree was sporting a dangerous smirk. “Long as you’re alive, anything else is fair game, right?”

You didn’t see the way he pulled his arm back and slammed his calloused palm against your rear, but you certainly felt it. He’d used enough force to make you jump in his lap and scream, only to be silenced by having your face brutally shoved into the mattress. Your delicate hands reached up to try to peel his fingers off of you so you could at least pick your head back up, to no avail. In the meantime, he got at least a few more spanks in.

Once you really started struggling, he finally eased back and let you take in all the breath you needed. He observed how flushed and lively your face became after having exerted such energy, and he thought idly that your ass was starting to match. A few smacks was all it took to make your plump flesh nearly as bright red as a cherry, but he didn’t intend on stopping here. When he felt you’d had an adequate amount of time to regulate your breathing, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and prepared to shove you back down again.

You managed a sharp gasp and at least half a thought before you were silenced. “W-wait-”

Your plea fell on deaf ears, or rather, McCree simply didn’t care about what you wanted. This was the perfect opportunity to punish you for the way you’d been behaving. He could afford to treat you this roughly and still manage to get away with it - another perk of being Reyes’ favorite. He brought his hand back down against your ass, this time harder and more frequently. Rather than struggling against him, you were reduced to trembling in his grasp. The sight of you didn’t inspire any pity in him, but even more arousal. “I’m gonna teach you something precious that dear ol’ Daddy never bothered to teach you. Rich little girls like you oughta learn humility.”

His hand relentlessly abused your ass until he thought any more smacks might actually break the skin. Eventually you even stopped shrieking into the mattress, instead taking him well and with little more than a few whimpers and quakes. Satisfied, McCree sat back to admire his work before grabbing another fistful of your hair so he could hoist you up and look at your face. Of course, he expected you to look humiliated but he didn’t expect to find genuine terror in your expression. If anything, he thought you could still bare your teeth in a scowl through the pain. Instead you looked pitifully scared and broken as tears and drool leaked down your face. “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry… please stop…”

Even when you were crying, you looked like a little doll. Your glassy eyes and delicately quivering lips drew out McCree’s excitement like a moth to a flame, and he smiled softly as he reached up to pull his cigar out of his mouth. He put it out in a nearby ashtray and laid his palm flat against the small of your back. The way you tensed upon feeling him touch you didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just rubbed comforting circles into your soft flesh, going especially slower and gentler when he reached the more tender skin of your ass. Even though he didn’t necessarily intend to inflict pain, you still trembled when he touched you there.

Shyly, you peeked back at him over your shoulder, as if you were anticipating that he would strike you again at any moment. He didn’t plan on it, but he also didn’t verbally express this to you for the sake of watching you squirm.

You jumped when his other hand let go of your hair and gently pet the top of your head. You still didn’t relax even under the soothing motion, but you at least stopped shaking. The tension that existed throughout your entire body was evident as he trailed his deft fingertips along your spine and down the cleft of your ass. He resumed rubbing circles over the flesh he’d abused before dipping even lower, between your thighs, and stroking your surprisingly wet pussy. As soft as it was, the way your breath hitched upon feeling him there was still loud enough for McCree to hear. Letting out a low, impressed hum, he remarked, “For someone who didn’t like it, you sure are wet… maybe you like being punished more than you think?”

You didn’t say anything and simply stared back at him with those big, teary eyes. Seeing your pathetic gaze after having grown so accustomed to your arrogance was a breath of fresh air, and it almost made him want to bully you some more. But he figured you’d had enough and if he pushed you any further, you really would break. So he didn’t tease you and instead gave you exactly what you wanted.

Your pussy was so drenched in arousal that it easily took in two of his fingers at once, in spite of how much you verbally protested against him. He pushed himself in all the way to the knuckles and swirled his fingers, scissored them, and rubbed them against your walls until he could feel you starting to twitch. Before you could get too excited, however, he pulled out all at once and simply traced along your labia. He waited for you to settle again and started teasing your hard clit with his fingertips just to wind you up even further. Once he got your hips shaking and grinding back against him, he traced along your opening and pushed three fingers back in.

He was simply exploring you earlier but now he clearly intended to bring you to orgasm, as his pace was fast and relentless. It turned your whimpers into shamed moans, which you tried to hold back with two hands clapped firmly over your mouth. But McCree wanted to hear just how good you felt because of him so he tugged on your wrists and held them out of the way, leaving you with no choice but to express exactly what you were feeling. You were such a princess that your previous partners must have handled you delicately, as if you were glass, so it was likely that no one ever touched you like this before. You sounded so overwhelmed that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself, whining and crying and shouting out once you finally came.

By the time McCree finally slowed his hand to a stop, he was soaked in your fluids all the way down to his wrist. Even the bedsheets were stained with your arousal and he only added to it by thoughtlessly wiping himself off on the blankets. He didn’t care about the mess; if anything, it only excited him more. While you were subdued and coming down from your orgasm-induced high, his own fun hadn’t even begun yet.

He gave you a little while longer to catch your breath before abruptly picking you up. You were too tired and sore to stand on your own or protest being handled so roughly, though he felt he’d sufficiently disciplined you that you wouldn’t complain nearly as much as you used to. Sporting a lazy, crooked smile, McCree drawled, “Finally starting to get a little fun around here. Maybe I should tell Reyes to hold off on sending out that dropship.”


End file.
